


down the straight and narrow path

by findyourfortunefalling



Series: Lady Hargreeves Academy for Orphan Girls [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Caning, Corporal Punishment, Dubious Consent, F/F, Masturbation, Teacher/Student, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 19:24:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20935469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/findyourfortunefalling/pseuds/findyourfortunefalling
Summary: "Do you know why I have called you here this evening, Vanya?'"No, ma'am," said Vanya, looking down at the scuffed toecaps of her shoes.“Allison, why don’t you tell Vanya what you told me earlier today?” Miss Grace leaned back in her chair, with her hands folded in her lap.Allison looked from Vanya to Miss Grace with a disconcerted expression. “I told Miss Grace,” said Allison, and paused to clear her throat. “I told her what I saw you doing last night, under the bedclothes.”-Being Part the Second of a Serial Tale of the Student Inhabitants of Lady Hargreeves' Academy for Orphan Girls, Their Lives, and Their Exploits.





	down the straight and narrow path

**Author's Note:**

> I said there was going to be more of this filth, and here it is. This was the OG concept that launched the good ship Lesbian Fuck Academy, and it is gross as hell. I hope you like it. Title from 'Girl's School', by Rasputina.
> 
> The teacher/student stuff is pretty minimal, but I've tagged it anyway, just in case. I haven't tagged this as incest, because in this AU the kids don't consider themselves to be siblings, but sexy business _does_ happen between characters who _do_ consider themselves siblings in canon. If I haven't tagged for something and you wish I had, please drop a comment to let me know.

A soft knock came at the door of Miss Grace's study. "Come in," said Miss Grace; the handle turned, and Vanya entered. Miss Grace sat at her desk. A fire was lit in the grate, and the modest chamber was illuminated by a few oil lamps, lending a warm glow to the sparse yet elegant furniture within it. By Miss Grace's desk stood Allison, still in her day frock, with a look of concern creasing her forehead.

"Close the door," said Miss Grace, and Vanya did. "Do you know why I have called you here this evening, Vanya?'

"No, ma'am," said Vanya, looking down at the scuffed toe caps of her shoes.

“Allison, why don’t you tell Vanya what you told me earlier today?” Miss Grace leaned back in her chair, with her hands folded in her lap.

Allison looked from Vanya to Miss Grace with a disconcerted expression. “I told Miss Grace,” said Allison, and paused to clear her throat. “I told her what I saw you doing last night, under the bedclothes.”

Vanya’s face flushed red, and she twisted her hands together before her in a manner which spoke of great anxiety. “I thought everyone was asleep,” she said weakly.

“Whether or not your fellow students were asleep is quite irrelevant,” said Miss Grace. “Continue, Allison. What was it you saw Vanya doing, under her bedclothes?”

“Wriggling about, ma’am,” said Allison, her eyes fixed on Vanya’s scarlet face. “She was panting as though overwrought with exertion, and moving back and forth so vigorously that the bed frame creaked. After a short while, she smothered a noise into her pillow, and then she rolled over and went to sleep.”

"You didn't think to ask what she was doing?" asked Miss Grace. Colour suffused Allison's cheeks; evidently, she had not anticipated being questioned herself.

"No, ma'am," she said, abashed. "By the time I was quite awake, she'd stopped."

Miss Grace turned to Vanya. “Vanya. What was it you were doing, under the covers?”

“I was-” Vanya paused, and swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I was touching myself, ma’am.”

Allison looked confused, but Miss Grace did not. Her pretty face, usually so serene, looked stern. “Touching yourself,” she said. "I take it you were not rubbing your arms to banish a chill."

"No, ma'am," said Vanya, her face a picture of misery. "I was- I was touching my... my private parts, ma'am."

Allison stared at her, uncomprehending. "What for?" she blurted, unable to contain her question.

"Be quiet, Allison," said Miss Grace. "What Vanya is describing is called Onanism, and it is as well you do not know of it, as it is a grievous sin. I am shocked to hear of this behaviour, Vanya. Whatever were you thinking of, doing such a thing?"

"I wasn't thinking of anything, ma'am," said Vanya, in a small voice. "I do sometimes have... fancies, when I'm doing it, of being held, or kissed-"

"The question was rhetorical, child," said Miss Grace. "I had been prepared to let you off with a light punishment, for a first offense, but your own admission that you have sinned against yourself on multiple occasions obliges me to take a heavier hand with you. Allison, please fetch the cane."

"No, please," Vanya said, greatly distressed at this prospect. "I promise I won't do it again."

"I should say not," said Miss Grace, standing up, and walking around to the front of the desk. Allison stepped behind her, and took down the slender rattan cane from its hook upon the wall, handing it to Miss Grace by the handle end. "Bend over the desk. Raise your skirts, and take your bloomers down."

"Please, ma'am, I'll be good," Vanya cried, shrinking away. Allison refrained from rolling her eyes, but only just; although she herself had never been on the receiving end of Miss Grace's cane, she hoped that she would have faced it with rather more dignity than Vanya, in whose eyes tears could already be seen. "Please, please don't!"

"Collect yourself at once," said Miss Grace sternly. "You have done wrong, and you are to be punished."

Sniffling, Vanya edged towards the desk. With trembling hands, she raised her skirt behind, and drew the bunched fabric above her hips in her clenched fists. She looked up at Allison beseechingly, but when no help was forthcoming, she relinquished her grip on her raised skirt, now tucked up out of the way, and bent herself forward over the desk. Her small stature made it necessary for her to bend at an angle, so that her posterior stuck out, and she blushed again, no doubt imagining what a picture she made.

It was curious. Allison had seen Vanya's bloomers before, many times, while dressing and undressing in the dormitory they had shared since childhood. The sight of female undergarments held no mystery to Allison, but something about the tableau before her was... compelling was not quite the word. Vanya's underthings were very white against the dark wood of the desk, and the dark twill of her dress; Allison could imagine very exactly what Vanya must look like from behind, her slim legs exposed, and the idea sent a peculiar thrill through her, although she could not have said why.

“And your bloomers, Vanya,” said Miss Grace, gently but firmly.

Very, very slowly, Vanya reached behind herself, and edged her bloomers down over her hips, her hands visibly shaking. The effect of her slowness of movement made it more… was intriguing perhaps the word Allison wanted? Intriguing, that was it, to watch her undergarments slide over the curve of her backside, baring even more of her pale skin to the air. It was almost a full minute before Vanya’s bloomers fell from her fingers to pool on the floor about her feet.

Miss Grace laid the cane across Vanya's buttocks. "Ten strokes, I think, should suffice," she said, her voice gentle. "You will count them off. If you miscount, or struggle unduly, we shall have to begin again. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Vanya whispered. She brought her hands up to the desk, and braced herself on them.

Allison watched avidly as Miss Grace raised the cane. She held her breath as Miss Grace adjusted her grip, surveyed her target, drew back her elbow in an elegant arc, and brought it sharply down. It cut through the air with a hissing sound like water on a hot stove, and the crack it made against Vanya’s upturned buttocks made Allison jump, but that little jump was nothing to Vanya’s reaction; she shot upright, hands flying back to try to shield herself from the implement, and emitted a high-pitched sound of shock and pain as she did so.

“Vanya,” said Miss Grace. Her sweet voice was hard, now, laced with a cold displeasure. “Put your hands back on the desk. Allison, you must hold her hands, since she cannot be trusted to maintain her position.”

Allison complied, leaning over the desk to take hold of Vanya’s hands. Being so much taller, she had to bend further forward, until her hair hung down between their faces. Vanya, having resumed her bent-over attitude, did not raise her face, but she gripped Allison’s hands tightly in hers.

“Since you did not see fit to count,” said Miss Grace, “we shall begin again.”

Her arm arched back, and cut down once more. This time, Allison did not jump, and Vanya stayed in place to take the stroke across her bottom. She yelped again, but after doing so, said, “One.”

“Very good,” said Miss Grace, and swung the cane again.

“Two,” said Vanya. Her little fingers dug into Allison’s wrists, but somehow Allison did not find it objectionable. “Three,” she said, and “Four,” in time to the swish-crack of the cane striking her flesh, and she continued to count, though her voice shook, until the count reached, or should have reached, nine, whereupon she merely wailed, and kicked her feet like a child having a tantrum.

"This will not do at all," said Miss Grace. Although her voice spoke disappointment, there was an odd half-smile on her face, as of suppressed excitement. Allison did not have time to ponder on this mystery, however, as Miss Grace next addressed her. "Allison, it seems Vanya requires further restraint to submit to her punishment like a good girl. Come around the desk, so that you may hold her more securely."

"Yes, ma'am," said Allison, hoping that her voice did not betray the mixture of feelings at war within her. She came around to the front of the desk, and as she did so, her eyes fell upon Vanya's exposed backside, and her breath caught in her throat. The skin of Vanya's buttocks was marked with stripes, red edged with pink, where the cane had cut into her. The strikes had not seemed gentle as Allison had watched them fall, but to see the effect so starkly painted upon Vanya's most tender flesh made Allison feel very queer indeed.

There was also- and this was queerer still- something odd about Vanya's privates. Allison could see the shape of them between her legs; she had never really thought about anyone’s private parts before, and had never seen her own save for at bath times, but there were Vanya’s, right before her eyes. The skin of her outer parts was as pale as the rest of her, and dusted with fine, crisp-looking brown hairs, like the hairs upon Allison’s own, though less curly. The odd thing was that it was… shiny. Shiny and wet. Some sort of clear fluid had gathered around the slit of her sex, pasting the hairs down, and displaying a soft, pink centre, away from which Allison found it almost impossible to drag her eyes.

Allison shook herself, and laid her hands upon Vanya’s back, trying to angle herself so as not to be able to see between Vanya’s legs. Whatever it was Vanya had been doing to herself, it was a sin. Miss Grace had said so. Gazing so long at the scene of the crime, as it were, could hardly be better than a sin.

Vanya was warm to the touch, and fine tremors ran through her. Tears had dripped down her cheeks. When Allison laid hands on her, she settled, leaning her hip against Allison’s.

“It is a shame to have to do this, Vanya,” said Miss Grace. The expression of anticipation on her face remained at odds with the note of sorrow in her voice. She leaned forward, and ran a hand over Vanya’s stinging buttocks; she might, perhaps, have been checking to see if the skin was broken, although it was clear to Allison’s eyes that it was merely welted. Vanya shuddered violently in Allison’s grip, but made no move to escape. “You were doing so well, but until you can take your punishment with a submissive spirit, I'm afraid we must continue."

Vanya let out a sob, and folded forward, leaning her weight on her forearms, and resting her red face upon them. She did not reply to Miss Grace, but she remained in position.

“Much better,” said Miss Grace. “Hold her firmly, Allison. Vanya, do not forget to count.”

This time, the interval between the warning and the first strike was much shorter. It seemed only a moment before the cane flew again, and Vanya quivered in Allison's arms as she choked out "One," and "Two," and then "Three," the blows coming faster, now, with less time between them. Allison felt the shock each lash sent through Vanya's body, and the minute squirmings of her body against the desk between them. On it went, until the tenth and final strike, for which Miss Grace cocked her arm back to the height of her shoulder and laid into Vanya with such force Allison feared she should cut Vanya open.

"Ten!" cried Vanya, face down on the desk, and having counted the strike, she howled, a wordless expression of pain that twisted Allison’s stomach to hear.

"Very well done, Vanya," said Miss Grace, her voice soft and kind. She laid the cane on the desk, and brought her hand to Vanya’s scarlet bottom once more, in a manner than might have been called caressing. Despite the fervour of that last stripe, there was no blood, nor even any broken skin; only deep red lines, some of them raised to welts where two lines crossed, neat spread from the swell of Vanya’s buttocks down to the soft tops of her thighs. One or two had cut directly across the crease beneath her cheeks, and had caught the outermost protrusions of her sex. It looked dreadfully sore, which was, no doubt, why Vanya wriggled so when Miss Grace’s fingers probed the flesh there.

Miss Grace had stepped close to inspect the damage to Vanya’s skin, and her skirt pressed against Allison’s. She was quite pink with exertion, and a fine sheen of perspiration was visible on her brow. There was a smell in the air which Allison could not quite name; sweat, and warm skin, and a tangy, salty odour, new, yet somehow familiar, in the close confines between their three bodies.

Miss Grace took her hand away and moved back, and as she did, her expression changed to one more serious and circumspect than the look of… glee, almost, it had been a moment earlier. “A pity it took double the assigned lashes to impress the lesson upon you,” she said. “You took it beautifully, in the end.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” said Vanya, raising herself from the desk on shaking arms. Allison helped her to right herself, and then to pull her undergarments back up her legs, and to rearrange her dress. Miss Grace produced a handkerchief, and took Vanya’s face in her hand, dabbing her eyes dry.

“You may take her to bed now, Allison,” said Miss Grace, laying the handkerchief on the desk, and picking the cane back up. “Thank you for your assistance.”

“Yes, ma’am. Goodnight, ma’am,” said Allison, tucking Vanya against her shoulder. Vanya stumbled, a little, as she tried to walk, and clung to Allison’s dress. There was a soft vulnerability to her now, a blurry agreeableness that was at once unsettling and fascinating, and it was the simplest thing in the world to draw Vanya close to her as she guided her to the door.

“Goodnight, girls,” said Miss Grace. She hung the cane back up in its place on the wall, and did not turn around to watch Allison and Vanya as the door closed behind them.

*

Ordinarily, Allison had very little attention to spare for Vanya. She and Luther were- or had been, until Luther had been appointed Head Girl and had started putting on airs- thick as thieves, and mousy little Vanya had never been her playmate of choice, but something had changed since she had watched Miss Grace administer that punishment. Now it was all she could do to keep her eyes on her slate, rather than on Vanya.

It was hard. Vanya seemed to spend the days following her punishment in a daze; she was distracted from her work, distracted from conversation, and she _squirmed_ in her chair in a manner than was impossible to ignore. Sometimes, if Allison sat close, she could hear the little hitching breaths that accompanied such squirmings; the sound made her feel hot all over and almost dizzy, though she could not quite say why.

Additional to these distractions, Allison still did not know precisely what the sin of Onanism was. Having recalled the name, she had consulted the Bible, but that had been no help at all- all the Bible said about Onan was that he had spilled his seed upon the ground rather than giving it to his brother's wife. Vanya did not have a brother or a wife. She was not even especially fond of gardening. Whatever the missing element to this puzzle was, it would not be found there. Nor could she ask Miss Grace, who would doubtless have told her when the subject arose, had she wanted Allison to know, and the idea of approaching Miss Handler or Miss Patch and thereby betraying Vanya's privacy was unconscionable.

The proper thing to do would have been to take comfort in her own ignorance of the ways of sin, and to let the matter drop. It seemed, therefore, that it would be necessary to dispense with propriety.

Since first catching Vanya in the act that first time, she had paid close attention to to Vanya at bedtime, never allowing herself to fall asleep until she was certain Vanya slept too. At first, she had told herself she was being vigilant, ensuring that Vanya did not re-offend, but her vigils had taken on a different quality of late; one of anticipation and of hopefulness that she would hear the telltale creak of the bed frame again.

It was not too long before the sound came. It was very late at night, long after Allison had heard Vanya’s breathing grow deep and even, and had let her own eyes slip closed. She was awoken by that creaking sound, and the rustling of bedclothes. When she opened her eyes, her breath caught, but she did not make a sound; she bit her lip, and watched the gently rocking shape of Vanya under the covers, illuminated by the pale moonlight which spilled through the chamber window.

Vanya's bed was opposite Allison's, or at least the bed Allison now occupied- she had helped herself to the bed under the window when Luther moved into the private room set aside for the Head Girl. Luther had always slept like the dead, so it was possible that it was the increased proximity of their sleeping arrangements that had alerted Allison to Vanya's nighttime activity. Her previous bed, some six feet away, might have been too far distant to detect such minute sounds as the soft shifting of fabric against fabric.

As her eyes adjusted to the low light, Allison could see that Vanya had the blankets pulled up over her head, and that her movements were slower than the last time. Was she doing... whatever it was she was doing... more slowly to avoid detection? Or was it something to be savoured?

The tiniest of whimpers emanated from Vanya’s bed. Before she quite knew what she intended to do, Allison had thrown off her own coverings, and swung her legs out of bed. Moving as silently as she could, she crept across the floor between their beds, and found herself standing over Vanya, watching the rise and fall of the blankets.

All was very quiet; the only other noises to be heard were the other girls' breathing.

Moving swiftly, Allison drew back the covers from Vanya’s bed, and swung her leg over Vanya’s body, straddling her as a boy might sit astride a pony. Vanya let out a sharp yelp of surprise and protest, quickly muffled by Allison’s hand across her mouth. “Be quiet,” Allison hissed. “Do you want the others to wake up?”

Vanya shook her head, staring up at Allison, eyes wide. Allison became sensible of several things all at once. The first was that her naked thighs were now in direct contact with Vanya's skin, because Vanya's nightgown was rucked up about her waist. The second was the awkward position of Vanya's body; this was due to Vanya's right hand being pressed between her legs, and her left hand being up underneath her nightdress, cupping one of her breasts. Thirdly, that warm, salty smell came to Allison’s nose, and when she lowered her gaze to see what Vanya’s hand was doing, that slickness, too, was back, coating Vanya’s fingers so that they shone in the moonlight.

Having regained her composure a little, Vanya attempted to draw her hand away, but Allison grabbed her wrist, arresting its movement. “Show me what you were doing,” Allison whispered. A shudder passed through Vanya, and her jaw worked against Allison’s palm, as though she were attempting to speak, but Allison kept hold of her.

With aching slowness, Vanya moved her hand back down. Allison watched as she parted the lips of her sex with her fingers, and hesitantly began to rub a particular spot with her fingertips. There was a small nub in the same place within Allison’s own privates; it was tremendously sensitive to pressure, and elicited curious sensations when the seams of Allison’s drawers pressed against it, or when it was touched while she bathed. She had always left her own privates alone, for the most part, as she did not know precisely what that sensation meant, and it seemed almost too nice to be allowed. The thought of applying intention pressure and friction upon that spot, as Vanya was, thrilled through her, and her sex gave a sudden, powerful throb.

Beneath her, Vanya had squeezed her eyes shut tight, and rubbed herself faster. Her breaths grew shallow, and her thighs shifted against the bed, enough for Allison to feel the movement but not enough to unseat her. Her fingers made a wet, slick sound as they moved, and her other hand began to move over her breast again, the fabric distorting. It looked as though she were pinching her nipple, though Allison could not imagine why. Surely the remaining welts upon her bottom were pain enough to be getting on with.

Vanya’s breath had grown quick and shallow. Hot breaths from her nostrils moved across the back of Allison’s hand, and her mouth had opened against Allison’s palm, almost like a kiss. Her hips bucked against the bed, and she let out a muffled whine, twitching beneath Allison’s thighs and hands as though having some manner of fit. After a few moments of this, she fell still, though her breaths were still ragged.

Very gently, Allison drew her damp hand away from Vanya’s mouth. Vanya’s eyes opened, and she looked up at Allison with an inscrutable expression. This time, when she made to draw her hand away from her privates, Allison did not prevent her, and that warm scent washed over her again. She felt another pulse in her sex.

What had that last shuddering been? Had something happened? Was there, perhaps, some kind of peak to the sensation induced by such self-debasement- Onanism, as Miss Grace had called it? Allison’s head spun. She wanted, very badly, to feel that sensation for herself, though of course she could not. It would be a sin, to touch herself like that. Miss Grace had said it was.

Miss Grace had not said, however, that to touch another there would be sinful.

Allison allowed her still-damp hand to move down to Vanya’s heaving belly. When she touched her, Vanya quivered again, but she made no attempt to dissuade her as her hand moved down to where Vanya was still hot and slick, not even when Allison’s questing fingers dipped into her slit. The flesh there was so warm, and smooth, and the wetness was such that it was the easiest thing in the world to allow her fingers to slide about. It felt… familiar, of course, for she had parts just like these, but also strange and exciting, to touch Vanya like this. It was easy, too, to find that little nub, and to rub upon it like Vanya had, and to feel Vanya squirm. Confident now that Vanya would not run away, she swung her leg back over Vanya’s body, and wriggled down to lay beside her.

Vanya sighed, breath gusting over Allison’s chest. She pressed herself against Allison quite boldly, and Allison recommenced touching her without a second thought, drawn back to the heat between Vanya’s legs like a moth to a flame. When her fingers slipped lower, they caught against the opening there. Vanya’s hips bucked again, and Allison found herself sliding her index finger inside. It was hotter again, and curiously textured, and more wonderful still were those hitching breaths Vanya made when she pumped her finger in and out. The position of her hand put her thumb against that pearl of flesh, and it seemed natural to rub there as she penetrated Vanya, and then to slip her middle finger in alongside the first.

Vanya buried her face in Allison’s shoulder, stifling a high-pitched sound, and those twitching shudders overtook her again. This time, with her fingers curled inside Vanya’s innermost place, Allison felt her clench within, and felt a fresh rush of slickness there. These tremors took longer to subside than the first, and when Vanya raised her head, the collar of Allison’s nightgown was damp with spit.

She drew her fingers out of Vanya slowly. Not quite knowing what to do with them, she wiped the fluid off on Vanya’s nightgown, and held Vanya to her, enjoying the closeness of her body as she tried to rearrange her thoughts into some kind of order. To be touched in that place, then, produced shivering fits, but they could not be unpleasant, or Vanya would have made some protest. She was very keenly aware of a slick feeling in her own private parts, which had begun when she had first seen what Vanya was doing, and had only increased with their touching. She _throbbed_ there, and the urge to touch herself came upon her again, more insistent than ever. She must not, but perhaps-

She took Vanya’s hand in hers, and pulled up the hem of her nightgown. Vanya watched her intently, and allowed her hand to be guided to Allison’s sex.

The first touch of Vanya’s clever little fingers upon her slick folds was like the shock of a flame up Allison’s spine. Vanya was much less hesitant than Allison had been, finding that spot immediately and swirling her fingers around it in a motion that sent waves of pleasure through Allison with each rub. It felt- there were hardly words for how it felt; little wonder that Vanya had been willing to risk another thrashing to feel like this again.

Allison’s hand, still overtop Vanya’s, twitched and pressed her closer still. The pressure made it better, somehow. She turned her head to muffle the noises threatening to spill out of her against Vanya’s hair. The movement, or perhaps the sounds, prompted Vanya to move her hand faster, and it was not long at all before the feeling in Allison’s stomach grew too big to contain, and she was peaking, cresting, a warm glow suffusing her whole body as she shook against Vanya’s small frame.

Panting now, too, Allison did not prevent Vanya from angling her wrist to slip her fingers inside, as Allison had done to her. Bolder, again, than Allison had been, she did not start with one, but two at once, inducing a strange but exciting sensation of being stretched. Vanya pumped her fingers in and out as Allison had, the drag of her calloused fingers almost as wonderful as her touch upon the little nub, and when she did both at once, Allison peaked again at once, and felt for herself what it was like to reach that crest with something inside her. It stole the breath from her lungs, and yet, when it was over, all she truly wished to do was to do it again.

It was quite some time before Allison slipped out of Vanya’s bed and returned to her own.

*

The next day dawned horribly bright and unfairly early. To Allison, who had been up for rather more of the night than she should have been, it seemed like a personal affront, or perhaps a punishment for her indiscretions.

Yet had she been indiscreet? She was not entirely sure. In the heat of the moment, she had felt certain that it was only administering that secret pleasure to oneself that constituted a sin, but in the light of morning, she was not certain at all. Glancing across to Vanya’s bed, she saw that it lay empty, with the covers neatly turned down, and she blushed again to think of the state in which she and Vanya had left the sheets.

The other girls were up and moving about the dormitory, though, and it would look suspicious if she lay abed too long, so she forced herself up and about her morning routine. Her nether parts still felt sensitive and slick, and she felt very aware of them as she washed her face and dressed for the day.

When she entered the dining room, there was Vanya, seated alone at the long table. Upon seeing her, Vanya blushed, and looked down at the tablecloth. Their seats were assigned, so Allison could not sit by her, although she could not prevent herself from sneaking glances at Vanya’s face as they ate.

All day long, this continued. She attempted, on a few occasions, to speak to Vanya alone, but there was always some interruption; work to be done, lessons to be attended to, some classmate or other making conversation. It was maddening. More maddening still, Vanya seemed to be endeavouring to ignore her, and by the last class of the day, Allison had had quite enough.

She waited until after dinner, when the plates and cutlery were being cleared away. Miss Grace, having bid goodnight to the girls, had left the dining room to return to her own chambers; Allison caught Vanya by the elbow as she passed her, and pulled her along the corridor as she protested.

“Miss Grace,” said Allison. “May I speak with you, please?”

Miss Grace turned, her skirt swishing around her. She took in the picture Allison and Vanya made, the taller holding the smaller by the arm, their cheeks bedecked with blushes. “What is it, Allison?”

Drawing closer that they might not be overheard, Allison leaned towards Miss Grace. "Vanya was doing... that, again," said Allison in a low voice. Vanya's head turned, a look of shock on her face, and her mouth opened as if to speak, but Allison ploughed ahead. "Her nightdress was pushed up, and her hand was-"

"That's quite enough," said Miss Grace, sharply. "Vanya, you shock me. It's not like you, to continue to transgress when you know what you have done is wrong."

Vanya, mouth still open, looked from Allison to Miss Grace, and back again. She closed her mouth, and turned her eyes to the floor. "I'm sorry, ma'am," she said, and fell silent, contrite, even though Allison was quite aware that there was more she could say.

"You understand that you will have to be punished," said Miss Grace.

"Yes, ma'am," said Vanya. "Will it be... the cane, again?"

"I'm afraid so," said Miss Grace.

A most peculiar look had come over Vanya's countenance. The flush of her cheeks and her downcast eyes were the picture of shame and despair, but there was a curious glitter to her eyes, and the set of her mouth belied a certain... anticipation. All at once, Allison recalled the effect that the previous punishment had had upon Vanya's body- the twitches of her limbs, the gleaming wetness between her legs- and the manner in which Vanya had squirmed in her seat in the days following it. Allison had thought, then, that she squirmed in discomfort; on reflection, it was possible that her movements had not been intended to alleviate the pressure of the hard wooden chair on her bruised posterior, but to exacerbate it.

Another of those bolts of inspiration struck Allison, almost as hot and electric as the first idea of touching herself had been. The girls played games and sports when the weather was clement, and more than once Allison had taken a tumble playing hockey, or fallen victim to Klaus’s over-enthusiasm with a croquet mallet, and although her dark skin did not show marks as easily as her paler classmates, she had from time to time had bruises. When pressed upon, a bruise hurt, but there was an accompanying feeling alongside the hurt that could be, if not pleasant, certainly interesting. Vanya had squirmed against the bed quite as she had against the chair, when they had done... what they had done together. The image of the stripes Miss Grace had laid upon Vanya for her transgressions came to Allison’s mind, and she imagined how it might have felt, to rub those welts against the sheets while they had lain together.

"And I must be punished too," Allison said impulsively. "I, too, have been wicked, Miss Grace."

Miss Grace looked at Allison, surprised. Her eyes took in Allison's pinking cheeks, Allison's eyes upon Vanya, and an expression of confusion crossed her features, followed swiftly by one of dawning comprehension. "I see," she said. "You will both accompany me to my office, then, where you may confess your wrongdoing more... fully."

"Yes ma'am," said Allison and Vanya in unison. Miss Grace cast another inscrutable look upon them both, and turned on her heel to walk towards her office. The girls, careful not to run, followed after her.


End file.
